


Tell Me With Your Eyes

by cuttooth



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Awkward Conversations, Exhibitionism, Kink Exploration, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Masturbation, discussion of asexuality, mentions of acephobia, some internalized acephobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:00:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21721864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuttooth/pseuds/cuttooth
Summary: A playful smile spreads across Martin’s face, and Jon feels the nervous tension draining from his shoulders.“Jonathan Sims,” says Martin in a tone of faux shock. “Are you an exhibitionist?”“I suppose you’ll have to watch and find out,” Jon teases back, and Martin laughs.*Jon explores a new interest, with Martin's enthusiastic support.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 62
Kudos: 770





	Tell Me With Your Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> There are lots of delightful fics where Jon enjoys watching Martin get himself off. I started thinking about the opposite scenario, and this was the result. A lot of this is based on personal experience, so thanks as always to Jon for being the perfect character for me to project all over.
> 
> And of course many thanks to my wonderful beta [fatal_drum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatal_drum/pseuds/fatal_drum) whose feedback made this far, far better.

_“Do you love me too?...The truth! Tell me. Tell me with your eyes.”_  
― James Joyce, Exiles

Jon values his privacy. Growing up, his grandmother expected privacy and afforded him the same courtesy, and that preference has extended into his adult life and relationships. 

He knows not everyone has the same standards he does, particularly in intimate relationships. While he and Georgie were together, she used to use the lavatory with the door ajar so they could continue their conversation while she took a piss, which Jon was quietly horrified by, but could never find a good way to bring up with her. Bathroom etiquette wasn’t why they broke up, of course, but communication was never their strong suit. Jon’s willing to admit that he was at least half the problem there. 

Martin understands his need for privacy. Despite the fact that they’re in a relationship, he still always knocks on the door of Jon’s office and waits for an acknowledgment before he enters. He lets Jon have space when he needs it, and Jon does the same for him, though Martin requires it far less frequently. And although the key to the bathroom in Jon’s flat is long lost, there’s an understanding that a closed door means Do Not Enter. 

There are many reasons that Jon enjoys his privacy. Only one of them has to do with the fact that, when he’s taking a steaming shower after a long, difficult day at work, he can slide a hand down to his cock for a little stress relief, knowing he won’t be interrupted. It doesn’t take much to work himself to hardness, the hot water streaming over his shoulders and his mind blissfully empty of anything but sensation. A soft sigh escapes him, and he moves his hand faster, letting his body slump against the wet tile. He’s close, so close, almost there, and - 

_“SorryJonjustneedtograbmywallet!”_ he hears over the sound of the shower as Martin bursts into the room, and stops. Sees Jon standing there, cock in his hand. A wave of humiliation sweeps over Jon. Through the steam and spray, he sees Martin go red to the roots of his hair, and turn to fumble for something on the shelf above the sink. 

_“Sorrysorrysorry,_ ” he says, carefully averting his eyes, and hurries back out again. 

Jon finishes showering quickly, arousal entirely forgotten, and when he walks out with a towel around his waist Martin is very busy taking containers of food out of paper bags and setting them on the coffee table. 

“Martin,” he says tentatively. Martin glances up at him, and the smile he flashes looks a bit strained. 

“Sorry, Jon. I shouldn’t have just barged in on you like that, it was rude. But the delivery guy came with dinner, and I realized left my wallet in the bathroom earlier? Which was a stupid place to leave it, I know. Anyway, sorry.”

“It’s - it’s fine,” says Jon. “I should have been more discreet. Sorry.”

“You were in the _shower,_ Jon, in your own flat, it’s a totally normal place to - ” Martin breaks off, looking down as he takes the lid off a container of rice. “I, umm, I just didn’t expect - I mean, I didn’t know that you - ”

“Ahh, right. I, uh, I suppose that should have been part of the, the discussion we had. I - ” Jon takes a deep breath. God, he hates talking about this sort of thing. “I do have...physical urges. They just don’t translate into any desire to - to have sex with someone else. I find masturbation to be a good stress relief, on top of taking care of the, uh, physical urges I mentioned.” 

“Oh,” says Martin. “Right.” His tone is impossible to read, and Jon immediately panics, because of course he’s messed it up as usual. He rushes to continue. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything before, it’s just sort of...difficult to explain to other people. How I can have the desire for physical release without any desire for sex itself. Not that that’s an excuse,” he hastens to add. “It was...I should have said.” 

Martin nods slowly. He’s looking at Jon, at least, so maybe Jon’s inability to communicate like an adult hasn’t entirely ruined things. 

“You don’t need to apologize,” Martin says quietly. “You don’t have to tell me everything. I can understand you might want to keep some stuff private.” 

“No, I - ” Jon huffs with frustration. “Can you just let me apologize, please? Because I _should_ have explained, rather than avoiding the topic simply because it was awkward.” 

_Awkward_ isn’t precisely the word, maybe, but the explanation is certainly never an easy one, particularly early on in a relationship. In the past it’s earned him such epithets as _selfish_ or _narcissistic,_ and in one case a rather laughable suggestion that he might be a porn addict. Of course he knew, he _knows,_ that Martin would never react like that, but it didn’t stop the scared little voice deep down inside him that whispered: _What if he does? What will you do then?_

“Jon…” Martin begins, coming around the table towards him, and Jon shakes his head. He can feel humiliating wetness welling up in his eyes, and he blinks it away. 

“I care about you, Martin, a - a great deal. And I don’t want you to think I would lie to you about something...important.”

“It’s not important,” says Martin firmly, and then he’s right there in front of Jon, cupping a gentle hand to his cheek. Jon feels horribly vulnerable, dressed in only a towel with tears stinging his eyes, but Martin is safe, Martin is _always_ safe, and he leans into the touch. 

“Thank you,” he says, a swell of relief rising in his chest. Martin ducks in to brush a kiss against his forehead before stepping away. 

“I don’t know what for, but you’re welcome,” he says, gently teasing. “I’ll warn you now, though, that sight will be occupying my brain for...quite some time.”

“Really? Why?” 

“Are you joking?” Martin is looking at him as if he’s an idiot. “You, touching yourself? Getting yourself off? That’s incredibly sexy.”

“Oh,” says Jon, a startled jolt running through him. “Right.” Oblivious, Martin turns back to the table and continues unpacking the food. 

“You should probably put some clothes on,” he suggests, glancing over his shoulder, “The food’s going to get cold.”

Jon’s mind is racing as he pulls on soft cotton pajama pants and an overly large sweatshirt. He’s well aware that he’s been the subject of Martin’s masturbation fantasies on occasion (“All the time,” if Martin’s to be believed). The idea doesn’t bother him; he knows people fantasize about sexual encounters, and he’s more than happy for Martin to think about him that way. But this, knowing that the sight of him...gratifying himself, is enough to stoke Martin’s imagination, that it's apparently _incredibly sexy..._ this is new. 

He thinks about Martin’s face when he walked into the bathroom, how his eyes had raked over Jon’s body, as if by reflex. The humiliation he felt at being exposed, at being seen doing something so embarrassingly carnal, rushes through him again. But this time, there’s heat with it, coiling low in his belly. He's not sure he has time to examine exactly _why_ that is right now, but it's visceral, and the idea lingers.

Jon thinks about it all through dinner. Keeps thinking about it afterwards as they’re curled up on the sofa, Martin’s chest pressed against Jon’s back. He can’t _stop_ thinking about it, in point of fact, and three hours later, with a documentary about the Incan Empire on telly, he comes to a decision. He squirms around to look up at Martin, his heart suddenly beating fast. 

“Okay?” Martin asks. Jon licks his lips nervously. 

“Returning to our earlier conversation,” he says. “Would you...would you ever want to watch? While I, uh, masturbate?”

Martin’s eyes go wide, and spots of color appear high on his cheeks. 

“Oh,” he says. “Jon, you - you don’t need to do that for me. Really. I’m sorry I said anything earlier about, umm, seeing you like that. I didn’t mean to pressure you.”

“You didn’t pressure me.” Jon frowns. “I am capable of deciding what I want, you know. And it’s...not for you, entirely. I mean it is, but the idea of you w-watching me is…” Jon’s heart is hammering now, his face getting warm. “Well, it’s rather...interesting.”

“Oh,” Martin says again, very softly. “Do you mean...sexually? Or...?” 

“I, uh, maybe? Nobody’s ever...watched me, before, so I don’t exactly know, but…I think so. Not saying that I want to - to have sex - ” He sits up, hurrying to explain, because the last thing he wants to do is give Martin the wrong impression. 

“No, no, I didn’t think that, don’t worry,” Martin says. “But...it’s a lot nicer to think about watching you, if I knew you’d enjoy it as well.”

“I - I think I might.” 

A playful smile spreads across Martin’s face, and Jon feels the nervous tension draining from his shoulders.

“Jonathan Sims,” says Martin in a tone of faux shock. “Are you an exhibitionist?”

“I suppose you’ll have to watch and find out,” Jon teases back, and Martin laughs. Jon feels relieved, and oddly bold in the moment. He leans close to Martin and presses a soft kiss to his lips. 

“How about it, then?” he says, and is rewarded with Martin’s cheeks glowing red, his eyes widening again. 

“N-now?” 

“I _did_ get interrupted earlier.” 

“Right,” says Martin, “Right. I - sorry again, by the way - I mean, yes, of course I want to! If you do.”

“I’m sure I’d like to...explore it, at least. Though I can’t promise I won’t change my mind.” 

“Of course! Only what you’re comfortable with. We’ll stop whenever you want, just say.” 

“I will,” Jon says, getting to his feet and tugging Martin up with him. Martin is blushing furiously now, and Jon’s heart is racing, exhilarated. 

In the bedroom, he toes off his socks and pulls his sweatshirt over his head. He shakes the hair out of his eyes, and catches sight of Martin lingering in the doorway, expression uncertain.

“Jon,” he says, “Are you _sure_ this is okay?”

“Honestly, Martin, _yes._ I wouldn’t have suggested it if it wasn’t.” Jon walks up to him, and slides both hands around the back of Martin’s neck, playing with the curls there. “I want to try this, okay?” 

“Okay,” Martin breathes, smiling, and he looks so sweet and sincere that Jon can’t help kissing him. Martin’s mouth is soft under his, letting Jon guide the kiss.

“Okay,” Martin says again when they break apart. “Where do you want me?”

“Get a chair from the kitchen,” Jon tells him. “And set it in that corner.”

Martin obeys in an instant, and there’s a little thrill to the way he’s following Jon’s direction so eagerly. His words and body language make it entirely clear that this scene is under Jon’s control. He can explore _being sexy_ for Martin without worrying that anything might go wrong or get out of hand. He’s safe with Martin, always. 

Once Martin is settled in the corner of the room, Jon goes back to removing his clothes. Martin’s eyes on him are intent, no longer hesitant. Jon doesn’t quite understand how his thin, scarred frame could have any particular appeal, but Martin’s eyes are all over him with an intensity that makes him shiver. 

He undresses slowly, peeling the fabric of his undershirt carefully away from his skin, letting his touch linger. He feels a little silly as he trails a hand down his bare chest towards his waistband, except Martin is biting his lip and his eyes are following Jon’s fingers hungrily, and suddenly it doesn’t seem silly at all. Jon lifts his other hand to circle a thumb over his nipple, then pinch it gently. Martin seems to like that, letting out a soft sound, so Jon does it again, coaxing it to a stiff little peak between his fingers. 

“God, Jon…” Martin breathes, and Jon’s quiet whimper is as much for the tone of his voice, the want in his eyes, as for the physical stimulation. It’s exciting, knowing that he is the center of Martin’s attention, that everything he's doing is itself a source of excitement. 

Jon feels his cock starting to stir under his own attentions. He skims the pajamas off his hips and lets them fall to the floor, then gets on the bed, stretching his legs out. He glances at Martin, whose gaze is fixed on the front of his briefs, the growing bulge beneath them. Jon grasps himself firmly through the fabric and squeezes. Moves his other hand back to his nipples, teasing first one, then the other, as he gently massages his cock. He always enjoys drawing this part out, like a little foreplay with himself, letting his arousal build gradually.

He can feel Martin’s gaze on him, can hear him breathing hard, and he lets himself relax into the sensations, eyes closed. Jon writhes under his own touch, arching into it as he tugs cruelly on a nipple, his hips lifting off the mattress as his cock swells. His breathing is growing faster, uneven. He lets his head fall to the side and opens his eyes again. Heat floods through him at the sight of Martin, staring wide-eyed, his face pink and his trousers tented. Jon’s never felt so desired in his life, and there is something achingly erotic about it that he can’t rationalize. 

He’s never been comfortable with being an object of sexual attention, not that it’s been a frequent issue in his life. He’s been deeply uncomfortable the rare occasions someone’s chatted him up drunkenly, their eyes traveling over him, making it clear where their thoughts were going. Even unanticipated intimate touch from a partner is more likely to make him flinch than feel sexy. This is different, though, isn’t it? Because Martin doesn’t expect anything from him, isn’t going to try and take any more than Jon is offering. All Martin wants is to _watch_ him, visibly excited at the sight of Jon touching himself. 

“Martin,” he asks, “What do you want me to do?”

“Take your pants off,” Martin answers instantly. “I want to see your cock, god, it looked so good when I saw it in the shower.”

Jon nods, and slides the briefs down, wriggling out of them and kicking them off the bed. He’s mostly hard by now, his cock stiff against his hip as he lies back down again. He strokes his palm lightly along the shaft, and his breath hitches as it swells further into his touch. Martin makes a low sound.

“You like it,” Jon murmurs. He’s never understood the aesthetic appeal of genitals, but the way Martin licks his lips makes him take his cock fully in hand, stroking it firmly. 

“It’s gorgeous,” Martin says. “You should see yourself right now.” 

“Tell me.” Jon is suddenly, insatiably curious to know how Martin sees him. 

“You look...amazing,” says Martin, his voice pitched low. “All flushed and squirming, like it’s making you feel so good. The look on your face is...you’re frowning, the way you do when you’re concentrating really hard on something. But with your lips parted like that, it makes you look so needy. Beautiful.”

“Hardly that,” Jon snorts, though pleasure pulses through him at Martin’s soft words. 

_“Beautiful,”_ Martin repeats insistently. “And so sexy, with your hips pushing up, fucking your cock into your hand like that. You love touching yourself, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Jon breathes, working his hand faster. He’s light headed with arousal, the husky tone of Martin’s voice, Martin’s gaze on him, loving Jon’s body with his eyes. 

“Do you ever use any toys?” Martin asks suddenly.

“Wh-what?”

“Toys,” says Martin again. “Do you ever use toys, to fuck yourself with?” 

“No, I - I don’t have anything like that.” Jon feels a rush of heat at the suggestion, and also an odd sense of embarrassment, because Martin says it like it’s such a normal thing, like it’s something everyone does. Maybe it is, maybe it’s something he’s missed out on, something else weird about him. 

“We could get you some, if you’d like,” Martin continues. He doesn't sound surprised or judging or like Jon's weird for not already owning an array of sex toys, and Jon relaxes again. “And then I could watch you fuck yourself with them. Would you like that?” 

“God, Martin,” Jon gasps. He hesitates for a moment, then lets his legs splay open and his free hand drift down between his legs, lets his fingertips press between his cheeks, circling his arsehole. 

“Oh…” breathes Martin. “Oh, look at you. You love that, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Jon tells him, daring. “I keep a bottle of lube in the drawer by my bed, so I can, ah...finger myself while I masturbate. Sometimes.” 

He pushes the tip of one finger firmly against the tight muscle of his hole, not trying to breach it, just enjoying the sensation. His cock is leaking pre-ejaculate steadily now, the head jutting out of the foreskin.

“Do you want to show me?” Martin asks, and Jon’s cock jerks at the hungry sincerity of his tone. He nods, and releases his cock for a moment, flailing for the top drawer by his bed. He pulls out the pump bottle of lube with shaky hands and slicks his fingers, before sliding them back between his arse cheeks. Martin’s eyes are fixed on the place he’s touching himself, and it makes Jon even more eager. 

He easily slips one finger inside himself, his hips wriggling at the sensation of it. Two fingers is a little more, but he breathes deep and works them in, and there’s a lovely feeling of fullness as he starts to slowly thrust them in and out. He grasps his cock again, and god, he’s so close, he can feel waves of pleasure washing over him as he fucks himself, more and more intense, building to their inevitable conclusion. 

“You gorgeous, sexy thing…” Martin’s voice is a juddering, breathless stream that makes Jon dizzy. “I could watch you touching yourself forever. I can’t wait to get you some toys to fuck yourself with. I bet you’d look amazing with a nice thick vibe in your arse, grinding down on it, fucking yourself until you come without even touching your cock - ”

“Fuck!” Jon gasps, as the wave crests over and sends him crashing, his hips bucking and his cock spurting over his belly. His thoughts white out for a few seconds as aftershocks of pleasure shudder through him. 

Finally, he’s able to open his eyes again, feeling spent in the aftermath. He’s a mess, semen spattered across his stomach and chest; there’s a reason he often does this in the shower. Martin is still watching him with an expression that’s near to awe. He looks flushed and disheveled, sporting an obvious erection. In a haze, Jon suddenly wonders what it would be like, to have Martin touch himself as well while he watches Jon, moaning his name. He’s not sure, but it’s something to think about, maybe.

“Wow,” Martin says, “That was - how was that?” 

“Good,” says Jon. His brain is dopey with endorphins, and he laughs. “Very good.” He slips his fingers out of his arse, wincing a little, and rolls over, fishing for something to wipe himself off with. 

“Hang on.” Martin disappears for a few moments and returns with a wad of toilet paper. Jon takes it gratefully, cleaning up the worst of the mess. He looks up at Martin, who’s hovering over him. 

“How was it for you?” he asks, concerned, because it can’t have been all that gratifying for Martin, simply to _watch,_ without any release of his own. Martin smiles at him, looking a little overwhelmed. 

“Amazing,” he says happily. “You have no idea how gorgeous a picture you make. I mean, I’ll need to, uhh, _take a shower_ myself pretty soon, but that was - you were perfect.”

Jon gets up and pulls his clothes back on while Martin returns the chair to the kitchen. Sounds of the kettle being filled reach his ears. He washes his hands in the bathroom, and when he emerges, the kettle is starting to boil and Martin’s getting biscuits out of the cupboard. Jon reaches out to pull him close. 

“Umm, maybe not a good idea right now,” Martin says. “I’m still a little bit...worked up?” 

“Ah, right,” says Jon, and takes his hand instead, pressing a firm kiss to his knuckles. “You’re wonderful, do you know that?”

“I was thinking the same thing about you,” Martin laughs, then says: “So...one off experiment, or do you think you’d want to do that again some time?”

“I think I’d like to do it again,” Jon says, then continues, daring: “Did you - did you mean what you said about the...toys?”

“Oh!” Martin says. “Yeah, of course. As long as you - I mean, if you’d want to?”

“I - yeah,” Jon tells him. “I think we could...explore it.”

Martin beams.

“My boyfriend the exhibitionist,” he says, sweetly teasing. “What _will_ the neighbors say?”

“Were you planning to invite them to watch as well?” Jon teases back.

“No way,” says Martin, and squeezes his hand. “I’m keeping you all to myself.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr [@cuttoothed](https://cuttoothed.tumblr.com/).

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic of] Tell Me With Your Eyes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25475290) by [carboncopies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/carboncopies/pseuds/carboncopies)




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